Creating Character: The Character Interview: A Bit Jacked

So I’ve
said a lot about creating character and how we should “know” our characters
well enough to ensure their actions are logical and their motivations are
realistic. This doesn’t mean you spend hours before writing the story doing
this. I find that I get to know my characters better if I let them unfold as I
write. However, at some point during the process, I pause to sit down with the
major players and do a character interview. This is usually done in my head,
but I thought why not show you all how simple and kind of fun it is to do this?
So, every now and then, I’m going to post a character interview. You haven’t
read these stories (most of you anyway), so if my interview piques your
curiosity, then I know I’ve done my job, right? Right. I’ll start with a
character you’ve all met here on The Edge; Jackson Murphy.

 


Book Title: The Legend of Jackson Murphy



Character Name: Jackson Murphy



Role: Protagonist



Age: Early 40’s



Occupation: Contractor



Background:



I’m a
self-made man who built a construction company from the ground up. My education
isn’t spectacular, but I’ve got balls and that’s why I have what I do today. I
avoid my family, because most of them are pathetic and have nothing to offer me
aside from headaches and bullshit, and my marriage is going down the tubes.
Hobbies? Well, I like to make money and have sex. I’m not into fitness or any
of that shit, except maybe to keep myself in shape for the sex. I mean, those
young girls like a man with stamina, am I right? Of course I am.



Mental Characteristics:



What kind
of question is this? I know I said I’d cooperate, but seriously, this is
getting too touchy-feely for my tastes. You’re just going to whine and nag
until I answer, though, so let’s just get this shit over with. I’m obviously intelligent
and clever, or I wouldn’t be where I am. I don’t let emotions rule me, so I’d
say I’m a pretty level-headed guy. Unless you try to take what’s mine. You do
that and I might get aggressive, even homicidal. But you’d have it coming.



Spiritual Qualities: 



I don’t
have any. I don’t believe in God or the general kindness of strangers, whatever
the fuck that means. I think you gotta look out for number one, or you’ll get
left behind. So, whether something is ethical or not shouldn’t be viewed with
as much weight as whether that something is going to get you where you want to
be. Also, men are not meant to be monogamous. That’s bullshit. Marriage is
what’s wrong with the world today. I’m telling you, if we got rid of marriage,
people would be so much better off. Marriage and bisexuals. I’ve got nothing against
the gays, but the bi’s are just greedy fuckers.



Emotional Characteristics: 



Emotions?
Give me a break. What—I have to answer this shit too? Fine, I’ll play your
stupid game. I’m a confident guy, because I should be. I’ve got the shit to
back up that confidence too. I don’t cry or try to delve into my innermost
feelings. Who has time for that nonsense anyway? I’m not so much outgoing as I
am determined to get what I want. If that means I have to put myself out there,
I will. In general, though, I’d rather not deal with people. The majority of
the population is stupid. Most people are assholes. Who’d want to deal with
that shit if you don’t have to?



Am I happy?
I would be if I could get these mooches off my frigging back. Every time I turn
around there’s a hand in my damn pockets. I hate my wife, could take or leave
my kids, and I just want everyone to leave me and my money alone.



Motivating Desire:



Money. I
want to keep my money. That’s all I want. Okay, I want to end my marriage too,
but I want to do it as cheaply as possible. That’s why I figured divorce was
out of the question. A funeral now, that costs me nothing. But funerals, it
turns out, have some repercussions, so then my motivating desire kind of became
staying alive, and out of jail.



External Characteristics:



Not a
George Clooney or Clive level of hotness, but definitely a working man’s Brad
Pit level of attractive. I’m not ugly. Women like me.



What do you fear?


Nothing.
Okay, maybe jail. Tony’s scary too, but he’s not that smart. The mob really
needs to start using hitmen with a touch of education. They’d be unstoppable
then, but what do I know? I’m just a target.




Do you have secrets?



I have many
secrets, and just so you know, I plan to keep them. But I can give you a
general idea of the main ones. Let’s see, there’s Jenny, Ray, Thorne, Whitney,
Michelle, James…then there’s the mob shit, which was profitable for a while,
until that fat ass detective got her hairy nose into my business.



Inspiration:



My
inspiration? What the fuck kind of shit is this? My inspiration is greed. Is
that what you want to hear? Honestly. Are we done here? Good.



Excerpt “The Legend of Jackson Murphy”:



Morning
brought sunshine and silence. The kids left for school before Jack even made it
to the shower. He came down the stairs, thinking tomorrow he’d be going
commando if she didn’t do the laundry. He’d be damned if he’d ask her for
anything.



Jenny moved
in silence about the kitchen. She’d made just enough coffee for herself. Bitch.
The entertainment section of the paper was spread out in front of her but the
rest of the paper wasn’t in its usual crumpled heap. He looked to the door and
bit his lip. She’d taken out the gossip column and thrown the rest of his paper
outside, in the recycle bin.



He made his
own coffee and retrieved his crumpled paper from the blue bin on the porch next
to the door. As he moved to step back inside, the neighbor across the street
stared. Nosy cunt.



Jack
resisted the urge to have a pissing match with the likes of her. He would not
be drawn in, not now. He walked back inside and joined Jenny in the kitchen.



Sitting in
front of her at the small table, Jack made as much fuss as possible while
straightening the business section and slurping his properly made coffee.



Jenny did
her best to ignore him. He could tell she struggled with the effort by the way
her nostrils flared while she read her section of the paper. She was no match
for him, and finally looked up, her lips pressed into a thin line to stop
herself from yelling. Jenny hated slurpers.



“What?”



“Do you
have to slurp, Jack? Really, it’s annoying.”



“Well,
every time you breathe I’m annoyed, so we’re even.” He smiled and returned to
his paper. Jack wasn’t really reading. Who could concentrate with tension
hanging in the room like thick acrid smoke? Even if he could ignore that, the
metaphorical knife that dug into his throat would not be dismissed.



When
sniffling sounded from Jenny’s side of the table, he gave up the pretense and
stared.



“Where did
we go wrong?” she bawled.



Crying
usually worked for Jenny so he wasn’t surprised that she’d resort to that.
Still, it irked him that she would assume he gave a damn about her feelings.



“Why don’t
you love me anymore?”



“Why don’t
you love me? It’s not like you give a shit about this marriage, you’re just
angry that I’m not giving you what you want. Stop the theatrics; I’m not
bothered in the least by your tears.”



Jenny
continued to sniffle as Jack attempted to return to his paper.



“I don’t
want your money. I just want things to be the way they were.”



“I think
it’s a little late for that, Jen. When you decided to spread your legs for your
boyfriend, that was the last straw.”



“I don’t
have a boyfriend.”



Lying bitch.



“How could
you think such a thing?” she pressed on, “I want to work this out, I’d never
betray you.”



“Really?
Forgive me for not believing you but you’re a shitty liar. There’s nothing left
to work out anyway. I’m done.”



“Even if I
was having an affair—which I’m not—what about you? You’ve been sleeping with
that slut for God knows how long. You never miss a chance to rub it in my face.
I just—I, oh damn it. Please, I don’t want us to be over. Just let’s try to
make this marriage good again.”



Jack eyed
her tearful face. She sure looked sincere but he wasn’t born yesterday. Those
looks between her and Ray set his defenses up. She had something up her sleeve,
but what? Poisoning his food? Cutting his brake lines? It might be wise to play
along and see what she’d do.



“All right,
what do you want from me?”



“We should
take a second honeymoon, just you and me. We could go on a cruise or
something.”



Aha! She’d
push him off the boat and leave him to drown. Well, not if he pushed her first.
“All right, you make the plans but I’m not promising anything. Get rid of the
boyfriend while you’re at it.”



“There is
no one else, Jack.”



“Whatever.”
He sipped his coffee.



“This won’t
work if you won’t try.”



“I’ll try,”
he lied. “Make the plans and I’ll be there. I gotta get to work.”



“Come on
Jack; can’t you just be home one day each week?”



God, how he
hated whiners. “I don’t work Sundays. What more do you want?” He stood, leaving
his cup and the paper on the table.



“Are you
home on Sundays?”



“Can we
talk about this later? I really do need to go into work. I’ll come home early
if that makes you happy.” Or shuts you
up.



“Should I
book the trip? Can you take two weeks off?”



“Two weeks?
No, I can take a week, but not two.”



Her eyes
welled up with tears again.



Although he
didn’t care about her, her fake grief gave him a good excuse to give in. He
couldn’t stand criers. Crying showed weakness and weakness was contagious.
“Come on, give a guy a break. I’ll go, but I can’t spare two weeks. It’s my
business and if I’m not there I could lose out on jobs. Ray can’t bid, he’d put
us in the poor house for sure.”



“You don’t
give Ray enough credit. He’d do fine.”



I bet... “A week. End of discussion.”



Jack left
as she sputtered her arguments. All that talk about second honeymoons and
making it work made him nauseous. Next thing he knew, she’d want to have sex.



He wouldn’t
be on any cruise, but it made a good cover now that he considered it. How could
a man kill his wife while planning a second honeymoon? Only people in love went
on second honeymoons and people in love didn’t kill each other.